


im an emo ghost now not clickbait

by lo fi asmr (s0dafucker)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Murder, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Guns, Unreliable Narrator, children murdering children lmao, dying is traumatizing, ft my inability to write anything original that isnt in 2nd person, growing up in a rural area is a weird experience that makes me want to write horror, i almost want the end to b a surprise but whatever, i figured it needs a warning, ig, its easier this way bc a. unreliable narrator and b. the mc doesnt have a name yet, loosely based on getting naked and playing with guns by ajj, the rape/non-con tag is there for some attempted shit thats implied in the actual text, warning for some gross imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 12:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15729120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0dafucker/pseuds/lo%20fi%20asmr
Summary: you've known your neighbors all your life.(the one with the dead kid.)





	im an emo ghost now not clickbait

**Author's Note:**

> in case u didnt read the tags!! tw for guns and a knife and dead animals and implied attempted sexual assault and a confederate flag belt buckle

i. the neighbors are a boy and a girl and they look alike to your eyes, like twins, like mirror images. they like to play with you and you don’t like to be in your house.

(it doesn’t matter if theirs smells like rot. you like it just fine.)

 

ii.your older brother swims in the river for a long time. you watch the sun go down, the mud warm and soft and sandy. you write your name in it. the stars are pinpricks in the dark-blue-black water, rushing past like something alive.

(your mama cries, and it makes you cry. she introduces you to your brother a few days later. he has a different face, but she assures you he’s the same. you don’t believe her.)

 

iii. the girl holds your hand too much. she isn’t much older than you, but you know she thinks she’s a grown-up- she wants you to try her papa’s drinks, and she wants you to play with the knife she found in the basement. her brother watches with a look you don’t understand.

(you won’t say it, but the knife scares you. you tried her papa’s drink, which looked like the amber you read about, the stuff bugs got crystallized in, and you swallowed even though it burned; but she holds the knife like it weighs nothing, runs her fingers over the rust, and you feel cold.)

 

iv. your mama calls the neighbors’ mama a bad word, an ugly word, and even after she apologizes it sticks in your brain. you can imagine it clinging to the wrinkly, pink thing in your skull, scrawled in messy letters. you will call the neighbor girl that word one day.

(in the moment you will be sure she deserves it, _crazy bitch!_

she will crawl into your sleeping bag and her brother will pretend to sleep beside you even when you throw her off and you know he must be awake.)

 

v. he takes you to the woods and shows you his new rifle. he shows you his dad’s pistol. you ask if that’s it and he laughs- he shows you the deer he killed, and you realize when your stomach flips that you shouldn’t’ve asked.

(you can’t look away. he shot it through the eye, perfect, and flies circle like vultures. it isn’t deer season. the rifle looks too large for his shoulders, and it’s hard not to imagine blood leaking from his eye, skin peeling from his face.)

 

vi. the years of difference between them and you start to show. his upper lip is shadowed where yours is smooth, and she- she has grown breasts, almost overnight, and they look like the bloated corpse of something on the side of the road, overripe and swollen. she puts them too close to you like she expects you to enjoy it.

(they don’t complain about having you around. they don’t talk about you like a damn kid, like a fucking varmint, like something that’s snuck over the fence to corrupt their home. they look at you with blue eyes that seem almost glossed over and invite you to play like no one has aged.)

 

vii. your brother who is not your brother gives you your first cigarette and invites you to skip school. he looks tired- as you grow older it seems like everyone is tired. he wears his jeans low on his hips, a stars’n bars belt for fashion over utility. ‘look, kid.’ he says. ‘listen, kid.’ he doesn’t sound like your brother, but your mother won’t let you say that. his words sound like static and you nod and hold back coughs.

(you will never quit smoking, after that day. you’ll bum pack after pack off of your brother and share them with the neighbor boy. the girl won’t accept any- she has a better kind of cigarette, the kind that smells less harsh and makes prettier smoke. she won’t share because you can’t pay.)

 

viii. they want to play cops and robbers, like when you were kids.

(you’re still kids, even if you won’t admit it.)

 

ix. you remember the way she looked with the knife. it’s the same, now, on two faces. ‘they’re not loaded.’ he says. he turns the safety off anyway. ‘to make it realistic.’ they’re both smiling. your hands feel empty. most likely because they are.

(in the movies gunshots mean screams, but now there are none- you are silent and they are silent and then there are no cicadas, no basement walls, no must and echoing in your ears.)

 

x. your brother wants to hold you. tears roll down his cheeks, and his face looks like how you remember.

(he keeps choking up water long after he stops crying. he assures you it’s normal, and he holds you close even though his arms are cold.)

**Author's Note:**

> u know that one interview where sean from ajj says getting naked playing w guns is from the pov of the neighbor kid?? (i think his actual phrasing is closer to 'im the neighbor kid' but w/e)  
> this is a little based on that 
> 
> i want to explain some of the shit in this but i like the way its laid out in the text so if u have questions abt anything lmk in the comments


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